


Nowhere, Wyoming

by helena_s_renn



Category: Def Leppard, Music RPF
Genre: Diluted Bloodline, Fictional Medical Conditions, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Incubi, M/M, Mating Bond, Object Insertion, Small Towns, So.Much.Jizz, Stranded, Unrealistic Sex, Weirdness, in heat, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 13:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helena_s_renn/pseuds/helena_s_renn
Summary: Worst of all, Sav was horny. Continuously. Persistently. Horny. Like, hormones gone berserk. He’d woken up that way, and he knew why. His mate was gone. Not friend, but mate-for-life, the way some birds and mammals did it. They hadn't acknowledged it, hadn't talked about it. Hadn't even broached the topic. Sav doubted Steve was even aware. He was the one with the problem.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *Crossposting from RF only because I have doubts about the site's coding and viability.  
> *This fic is weird and the canon is all over the place, don't expect answers. Sorry.  
> *No disrespect intended to the real people these characters are based on.  
> *Comment moderation is on, play nice.

1983

Naturally, their tour bus broke down in the middle of nowhere, Wyoming between Salt Lake City and Denver, on someone's brilliant idea of a back road shortcut. The nearest town's one motel had less rooms than required for their 'entourage' even with everyone doubling up. All of Def Leppard but Sav opted to continue down the road to hopefully find a parts store that carried what they'd need and a real mechanic. If there was a next tour, they'd hire their own. 

Why Sav stayed... he wasn't feeling well. Under the weather. Not a cold, not the flu, just something that made him sweat and shiver and squirm like, as Phil put it, he had ants in his pants. Yes, his pants situation... 

The second the rest of the band was out of sight, Sav felt a wave of regret. He should have gone with them. Already, only twenty-four hours into it, he was going up a wall, tired of the static and handful of channels of the 19” TV with the cranky clicker; tired of eating cold cereal, microwave-able meat pies and stale crisps; tired of the motel lobby's coffee that tasted like battery acid and the drip-drip-drip of the leaky bathroom sink. He'd been rooming with Steve for the duration of the tour thus far at his own insistence and he didn't know how he'd get along without the guitarist's presence. It kept his nerves and needs quiet. Quiet-er. Something was building between them. Without Steve around, there was nothing to do but dwell on it. 

He quickly got bored, too. There was nothing much to do in these little towns. Restless, Sav went on short walks and made a mental inventory of the businesses in the area. No reason. Just for something to do. Three cafés, six bars, three petrol stations, a post office, bank, grocery store, hardware store, chemist's (they called them drug stores in America, which Sav found hilarious), a five-and-dime, one for farm supplies, seven churches, a crumbling single theatre, a bowling alley with ten lanes, laundromat, coffee joint, two second-hand stores and this dive which served as the only motel beyond a big Victorian house which had a B&B sign in front of it. He supposed that the junkyard and town dump counted, too. Utilities were handled out of Cheyenne, but the servicing was local, so that counted. The newspaper, such as it was, had been in circulation since the 1870’s. There was a combined school for all twelve grades with the worst town library he could imagine, two rooms - one for romance novels only - the whole place stinking of mildew. Halfway between this and the next town, based on a roadside sign, existed a pub referred to as a “supper club”. Sav suspected it was a strip joint. 

He had no wheels with everyone else gone, and if he had, there was nowhere else to go for entertainment out here. Back to Salt Lake City? No thanks! 

Then there was another thing. Maybe he was turning snob, but the pre-fabricated hick babble they all seemed to think was necessary, the weather and dead relatives, became a mind-numbing patter every time he interacted with locals, which was mainly at the filling stations when he ventured in for cigarettes or junk food. It was good he had clean jeans and tees; leopardskin spandex and neon shirts with enough rips to show both nipples wouldn't have done much to help him blend in. The second he spoke, no one thought he was from here anyway.

Fine, he was off his game. Usually, an observation which Steve was right about, Sav was able to talk to people easily enough, even to the point they'd confess things they hadn’t wanted to spill, just by him being so nice and earnest. Right now, it was all he could do not to snarl. 

Though he need not have isolated himself, he kept away from the crew that had stayed on, too. There was little privacy on tour. He didn't want it like this, but if he was going to be alone, then he'd be alone. After the fourth knock on his door by well-intentioned roadies, he put out the battered Do Not Disturb sign on the equally battered brass doorknob and left it there. They could think what they wanted. 

During the early afternoon of the second day, there came a knock on the door of his room. It was an attractive middle-aged lady who claimed to be there to do the housekeeping. Since she had one of those carts with linens and cleaning supplies parked outside his door, he let her in. Off-handedly, Rita, that was her name, mentioned a rash of suspected run-aways, but as soon as he said a word, plied him with twenty questions about where he was from, what he was doing here, and all that. 

He’d been handwriting some lyrics. Sav stood, stretched, and crossed the room to move his guitar case out of her way so she could finish vacuuming when he noticed the woman staring at him, her eyes roving up his legs, pausing, and then following the trail up to his face. He wasn’t stupid – he knew what that look meant. He was even tempted, because she was one of the few decent-looking people he’d seen in town. This woman was a redhead. Sav stopped himself from wondering if it was her natural hair color, and how he could... stop it! He seemed to be craving human contact more than usual, now that Steve was gone. Ushering her back to the door and telling her goodbye was more difficult than it should have been.

Because, worst of all, Sav was horny. Continuously. Persistently. Horny. Like, hormones gone berserk. He’d woken up that way, and he knew why. His mate was gone. Not friend, but mate-for-life, the way some birds and mammals did it. They hadn't acknowledged it, hadn't talked about it. Hadn't even broached the topic. Sav doubted Steve was even aware. He was the one with the problem.

It ran in some families, this need to pair off. Sav had never let that get in the way of sex. That was different, not a soul bond. However, there was no prospect of a decent lay way the hell out here in the middle of Wyoming mining country, much less anyone who would know what to do with him if... his aberration hit. His choice amounted to jailbait, inbreeders, and stout hard-eyed farm wives twice his age, for women. It made him nervous, when they leered at him like he was chocolate chip cookie dough. The men all wore Wranglers and boots or greasy overalls, which was totally not his thing. 

Since Steve and the rest had flown the coop, Sav stayed in mostly, pacing and jerking off every few hours. Till they bonded, if the potential mates were separated by distance, it was bad. For once, he didn’t need to sequester himself in the bathroom or wait sleepless, hard and leaking, till Steve’s restless, dreamless tossing and turning became gentle snores. In a way, it was freeing. But it wasn’t enough. If Steve was playing some elaborate prank on him... 

If he was lucky, very lucky, Steve would be back before he was to the point of needing a hospital, an elaborate and vastly embarrassing pump system, and a catheter, and would agree with him that fucking his band's bass player made perfect sense.

As if.

Sav took stock. Yesterday, he’d wanked five times, which was probably a record for him. Unlike some people, Sav didn’t get so much pleasure out of the act that he indulged in it much – it was more of a last resort. Given his druthers, he’d be out having it ‘handled’ by now. Whacking off kept the poisons down to some degree as a small amount of semen was released, but that would only mitigate the problem, and only for so long. Still, he’d come off in his sleep. Around four in the morning, Sav had awoken, face down and in mid-hump against the mattress, already spurting into his pyjama pants, unable to stop or fully enjoy it either. Something chased itself across the edges of his dreams. There was that other thing, erotic and sugary. The feeling was so familiar, his teeth ached from the sweetness of it. But that... that was sweetness he’d never know. Leave it to him to choose someone who'd never be into him. 

Today had been worse. Sav almost would have sworn he was in heat. There he was with his dick in his hand again: right away in the morning; again an hour later in the shower, after his walk. Again after his visitor and before his mid-day nap. Despite the multiple releases, Sav was so jittery he’d seriously have considered just tranq-ing himself if he had the means. His balls hurt from pumping so many loads, but here was no suggestion of his libido letting up. Dammit anyway, he needed to get fucked. True, he’d be shooting dust next time, but no, not if... right. 

What he really needed was to clean the pipes. Or the reservoir, as it were. Sav knew the signs. Hell, they’d been upon him more than a day now: low in his pelvic cavity, it sat, swelling, demanding to be squeezed out. Still no sign of Steve. In truthfulness, Sav had to admit that he was balancing the inevitable and having to do it himself against Steve coming in back in time. If they didn’t return in the next couple of hours, Sav would be doomed to making do on his own fingers or the thing he couldn't even think about. He’d taken care of himself for a long time, it was true. He’d had to for years. He considered it his burden. He had that other burden as well, but that, at least, was intangible.


	2. Chapter 2

Sav was the only man he’d ever heard of with such a physical manifestation. Once it started when he was thirteen, he’d never been without. He’d spent months of his teenaged years bloated, feverish, achy, the feeling only being alleviated by an intense wet dream. Those, he’d come to dread. Sure, they were normal for boys, but so much... stuffcame out of him that it was impossible to hide. Dad pretended not to know and Mum... It was so awful, her face turning into one big glazed hormonal question mark. John, his older brother by several years who was still at home then, would make profoundly tactless remarks about having to crack Sav’s blankets to unfold them. He delighted in referring to the younger Sav at those times as Richard.

Dick.

So Sav found the courage and had practiced doing himself, and discovered that he didn’t need to be stiff or ejaculate the usual way from his balls, to come hard. When he managed to do both at once, he inevitably passed out from the intensity. He bought toys in case of emergency, but had never dared bring any out of their hiding spot on tour.

And guess what, here he was again. Flicking open his button-fly. Reaching in with spit-slick fingers to take himself in hand. Only, it wasn’t going to be enough. Not nearly enough. He was desperate with needing to be fucked. Needed it now or he was going to utterly lose his shit. 

Frantic, Sav began to rifle through his suitcase. There, under the false bottom. Compared to the average human male, it was on the small side, but it was the right cylindrical shape, smooth and hard, and unlike his digits, it didn’t have fingernails. The wide base would actually be helpful in keeping the thing from getting sucked in and stuck. 

“Yessss,” Sav hissed. A weight dropped from his chest, relief at having something to do himself with. Oh, he'd known. It was the matter of getting past the denial. He dropped his jeans and pants into a puddle of blue cotton right there, crossing to the nearest bed in three steps. His backpack was beside it, packed and ready to go as always. While Steve kept an emergency fifth of whiskey in his duffel, Sav buried a tube of Astroglide in the depths of his. He could find it in pitch black, in the rolled pair of spare socks at the bottom.

Exposed to open air, his erection stuck out, already curved upward, flushed dark, the little veins along the sides fluttering. Just walking with the thing was awkward, the weight of it pulling at his groin. The old red fake-satin polyester bedspread was cool, at least at first, under Sav’s lower half as he flopped down. It didn’t matter that the mattress was lumpy. Or that the curtains were not quite shut tight. Nothing did, only finding that essential, crucial relief. Sav didn’t know what to do first – lube the shaft, lube himself, try to jack his dick. Most resistance would come from his hole; he would open himself up first. 

Lube. Rolling to his left side with his knees pulled up nearly to his chest, erection sandwiched between his thighs, Sav squirted a blob onto his fingers, reaching back to smear it on his hole. The tiny pucker darted inward at first touch, skittish. It had been a while since he’d had anything in it, weeks, and it was slow going to coax it to relent. His body always resisted the invasion at first. Sav moaned, loud, as his finger slid little by little inside, till it was in to the knuckle. Having another person do this for him took away the squeamish factor of trying to invade and resist at the same time – he loved being touched there, especially when his partner found the sweet spot, but not by himself. 

Still, needs must. He stopped for more lube and pushed it past his rim, up inside. Just a light, accidental touch to his swollen gland inside caused delicious shivers that made him gasp. His hips jerked, jabbing at nothing, as a clear spurt escaped his slit, the slick dripping onto his thigh. God, he needed it so damned bad! 

The second finger was easier mentally, but more difficult physically. His angle was all wrong, for some reason. Sav could touch the sensitive organ inside, but not get his digits lined up around or against it the way he knew was required. This time around, he needed that all-encompassing, milking-out climax. Sav knew his body’s limits. It wasn’t even just for pleasure any longer, although he thought he’d die of desperation for that, too. All that extra juice was building even now, whatever it was about his body producing so much that his prostate felt huge and hard, just like his cock, just like his balls that wanted to crawl up inside and join their meager enough contents with the copious carrier fluid.

Before he gave up and gave in to just jerking off again, Sav pulled out and with his trembling hands got his toy coated in lube. His slightly open hole throbbed in time with his dick. The insides of his thighs were wet all over, from where he had leaked with need. 

At the first touch of the smooth hard tip to his hole, nerve-infused thin skin of his rim screaming, Sav flailed, his hips jumping convulsively. The pressure against those hundreds of nerve endings – it wasn’t a real cock but it damn sure was going to do the job. First his legs shot out and downward in a straight line, his arse cheeks in the tightest clench. Not very conducive, and Sav’s body knew it. A second later, he was back to pulling his knees up, and this time he worked his hips backwards, pushing with his hand and relaxing. The need to impale himself and grind down, grind his come out of himself, tasted like sin in the back of his throat. 

Greased and smooth, once the head was in, the rest of it slid in easily. Every slippery glide of it through the clasp of his ring muscle sizzled his nerves. There! In! The thing bottomed out and he seized the base in a tight grip, rotating the longer barrel-shaped part of it inside himself, blindly seeking the borders of his gland. 

One slight brushing touch was all it took for another rapid ejection of pre-come, so much, now running down the back of his leg. Sav groaned and shifted, every muscle in his body flexed and sweating. Each press against his prostate heaved another spurt of colorless juice from him. Here came the part around which the worst of the craving centered, where the swollen sphere, finally setting free some of its built-up contents, through narrowed ductwork, began to clamp down upon itself. 

No position was good enough really; what Sav wanted was to just go to his forearms and knees and let someone... let Steve... fuck it out of him. All of it, every drop of colourless goo, and when he came screaming, every drop of cream, too. He rolled to the other side, worked out a few more spurts, moaning, partially from the soreness of relief; partially from the ache of waiting. So ready, Sav flopped onto his back, legs flexed and spread, hips grinding against the handle, now just as warm as his body, a pool on his belly. Felt so good, but so frustrating! He couldn’t control the speed of his hands, which flew, one around his erection and the other, now switched to pumping the dildo between his legs from the front. It was not enough, not enough - he was going to be required to bring out the big guns of his detailed fantasy life. 

From the time Sav was old enough to make up sex in his head, once puberty hit but long before he'd ever been touched, that took on a whole new meaning. He had some attraction to women, had been with women over the years, some of whom he still thought about from time to time. But overall, he preferred men. There was that stand-offish nature to men that he preferred as well - or he had till the thing with Steve had become central - because he didn’t have to get involved. Mostly though, he reckoned, it was because men could perform the service that was needed for him and not even have to know it. The thing was, he wished that it didn’t have to be that way and that he’d never have to think about it again. 

Another thing, Steve featured highly in his daydreams, always had since they'd met. Yes, he had a stereotype: close to his same size and build, smart-mouthed, butch but pretty. It wasn’t lost on Sav where his ‘type’ germinated from: day-to-day exposure that brought him forever into Sav’s subconscious. The fact that he was fucking gorgeous might have had something to do with it. On top of that, despite them being fellow musicians, there were certain things Sav sensed that they shared, things never said aloud, and he wanted that barrier down as well. More than anything. The two, or was it three, aspects were all knotted together, a hopeless jumble that he played out and untangled but only in his mind. Like while he was getting off. Like right now.

“Fuck.... Steve....!” Sav gave in to it. Since his mate had gone when he needed him most, he would take advantage of him in his mind. Because yes, despite what he was doing to himself right now, Sav was a man and he liked to fuck, too. As in, be on top, do the penetrating. He doubted Steve had ever allowed anyone to do that to him; the idea of being his first made Sav absolutely wild. That little round arse in the air, thighs spread, asking for him, begging... Steve’s dick shooting love just for Sav... Clawing and panting, Sav levered himself over onto his knees and one elbow, back arched to push his butt up high, legs wide apart so that his dick was trailing on the faded scarlet spread, the other arm behind him to keep fucking... 

Outside a car door slammed. Someone scraped ice out of the machine ten feet from the door. Sav ignored the distraction, biting his lip to try to keep quiet but it was no use. Knowing someone might hear him made it all the hotter. “Oh god, Steve, oh yeah, gonna... gimme...” He was going to come and come. It was seconds away. Sav’s body convulsed, abs pulling tight as he splashed all across his stomach and chest. Inside, his prostate bore down hard, finally releasing the bulk of its load as Sav snarled and screamed. He'd heard it explained that it was almost like giving birth in a way, that his body needed time to work up to it, and then push it out. He didn’t know about all that. What he knew was that he was blinded by a flash of white light, his balls turned inside out as they spewed too, and his hand dragged more and more pleasure from his dick, now that he could finally stop thrusting the toy in and out or his hole, because everything, everything was empty. He flopped to his back again, still coming, showering himself in it and moaning the same two words over and over. "Fuck... Steve..."

Something rattled, metal on metal. Sunlight fell across his face, and was gone. He sank into darkness. The last thing Sav remembered seeing was a flash of blue-grey eyes under furiously furrowed brows. Fuck. Steve.


	3. Chapter 3

...There Steve stood. Glowering down at him. Taking in his wrung-out, come-splattered bandmate, who had just blown a preposterously huge load all over his sweat-sheened chest and stomach and the bed while he worked himself with both hands and moaned profanity interlaced with Steve’s name like he was dying. It took him several moments to speak, just as well, because Sav was slow to regain full consciousness after his peak. The one he’d been working up to. Where he crushed out the built-up juices, because he had to. 

“So that’s how it is with you, huh?” It made no sense that Steve stood there, near the door, eyes trained on him. Why didn't he leave now that he'd witnessed this with no explanation? Sav could practically feel the touch of his gaze: like velvet against his skin, but ghostly.

Denial was beyond pointless. Shame, hot and omnipresent, was too heavy to let Sav shuck it away. Steve had just watched him fuck his own arse, spewing staggering amounts of juice and jizz in the process. Which he was still lying in. “Yeah.” Sav turned up a blissed-out glare full force. What else could he do? “That’s how it is.” 

“Why... why now? You’re twenty-some years old.” 

“Since I was thirteen or so, Steve.” Sav levered his limbs and rolled out of his puddle of spunk, pulled the long edge of the bedspread from behind him up, and covered himself. Under the safety of the red sateen, he pulled the toy out slowly. “Or are you just that un-observant?” 

“Huh.” At least Steve wasn’t staring at him anymore. He sat down at the set of table and chairs across the room from Sav, facing him, knees wide apart with his elbows propped up on them, like he did when he was thinking hard. “So, uh. Fuck. That was a lot of spunk, man. A lot. It’s... familiar. Although I’ve never shoved anything up my arse about it.” 

“What’s familiar?”

“Coming buckets.” 

Sav stared, mouth slack. “Prostate issues?”

Steve stared back, shaking his head. “No. My nuts.” 

“Huh. The hell?” Sav was about to grill the guitarist when he was interrupted. Steve had the look on his face that meant he was raiding his memory banks, and something didn’t add up right.

“So that other time...? You know.” He would have to bring that up, wouldn’t he? The incident had taken place two years ago. Thinking fast, Sav slid back and sat up. What a fucking mess. When he sneaked a look sideways, he noticed that the tips of Steve’s ears were pink. “In your bunk that one time? What was that about?” Steve expected answers. 

“On tour, we’re god knows where for god knows how long. We’re always holed up, so I couldn’t... get it taken care of.” Sav took a shaky breath. Sick, aching and miserable, and scared, he'd hooked up with some random bloke when they'd made a pit stop. Not even his type: short hair, broad as he was tall, bowlegged, stick up his ass, only saved by lips-eyes-pretty-boy-face. Sav wished he hadn't but if he hadn't, he might have died, who knew? It was the only time he'd ever got that close. They'd been driving overnight. His suitcase had been buried somewhere in the bus' storage compartments. It had been a five-minute seduction, only for long enough for Sav to get through the worst. After that, no one would look at him for a week. No wonder. He knew what he sounded like, what he got like, and the noises they'd all heard coming out of that bus. “So now I did,” he finished, "take care of it."

Steve’s lips quirked down at the corners for a second. “Dude, that is just wrong.” 

“More wrong than what you walked in on, you think?”

He got nothing but a shrug. “Dunno. So, now...? You say you had to or... or what?”

Sav turned to look straight into Steve’s half-lidded eyes. “You wouldn’t want to know. Really. It wouldn’t be pretty.” Steve looked stunned, but he nodded. “So, what about you?” demanded Sav. “What’s your deal?”

It took a minute for Steve to gather his thoughts. “Sometimes, not real often, but sometimes when I get off, it’s not just once but like, three or four times. Before I can... stop for the night. And it’s way more than however many shots worth, if you know what I mean.”

Sav did. “Does it build up? You have to release it or something bad will happen to you physically?” 

"No, I don't think so." Steve shrugged. "It just is that way. I've never tried to hold it back. Ruined more than a few pairs of socks when I was younger,” he smirked.

Imagining that, Sav could feel hot lust run through every part of him, except the one that would at any other time be rising and throbbing. “Can you tell before-hand? Do you feel different, get sick, anything like that? Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“Nothing like that. And no quacks! I know when it’ll happen... Can feel it a day or two off. Did surprise a couple of birds. Now, I just, uh, handle it. On my own. Why do you think I gave you so much shit? I thought you were like me. 'Til today, I didn’t know your version of this was any different than mine. I never realised before that being around you... helped.” 

Something occurred to Sav. “Then why were you looking at me funny when you took off? And why did you leave, anyway? Real good timing, man.” He waved a hand around in an all-encompassing gesture. Sav made no move to get up, though. He tried - and failed - to stop checking Steve out. His lips. His hands. Not to mention his crotch was staring right at Sav. It had never been something he'd dare allow himself. Not having to rein it in, though it was a relief, felt strange. Any newly-broken habit did, he supposed. 

“How long till you get like this again?” Steve wet his lips with his tongue and tilted his head slightly to the side. The unconscious gesture never failed to arouse Sav. Right now, it was only mentally; his body wasn’t going to respond for a while, for which he was ironically glad. Being empty and trying to go again was likely to hurt almost as much as when his glands were full to bursting. But Steve meant the crux of his cycle. 

“Could be a couple of weeks, or as long as three or four months. It varies.” 

“Right,” Steve grunted. “I know that feeling.” 

“I don’t think you do. Not entirely. Since, in your own words, ‘I’ve never shoved anything up my arse about it’.” 

“Well, that’s true. But...” The light, or the shadows, maybe, in Steve’s eyes turned them almost muddy rings around dilated pupils. “It’s my time now. I came back with the guy who can fix the bus, hoping against hope you’d be out somewhere. ‘Cuz it’s going to take a while.” He blinked a couple times and looked down, long, old-gold lashes fanned out. “Wish I’d been here for you, though.” 

“Let me help you, then.” Sav blurted. 

Steve’s teeth flashed as he grinned mockingly. “Unless by help you mean clean up after me, not much you can do. It’s going to be... relentless. I can tell. My balls ache bad." He reached down and cupped himself, something Sav had only seen him do the few times, if he'd been kicked in the jewels or accidentally racked himself. Like it or not Sav's belly fluttered with arousal, not that he could do anything about it. "Gonna need to come hard at least three times to get it all out.” The admission came out rough, like he was embarrassed.

“Dude! I’ve jacked off nine times since you left. Nine!” 

“Over the span of two days, right? Waiting for me to get back here and... Sorry, Sav. I knew something was up with you. I always know. Can sort of smell it. You go from your usual stink,” his tone teasing but turned on, Steve shifted his butt like a dog with an itch, “to something like pie with pheromones.”

Sav snorted. “Leave it to you to equate pie with sex.” 

“Hey, everyone has their turn-ons, right?” Steve’s eyebrows quirked up. “Better than burger-scented. That would be immoral.” 

“What, you mean meat? Stop redirecting,” Sav told him. “We should look into this right away.” 

With some sense of urgency, Steve ground out, “You do that, mate.” He made to stand up, but Sav spoke over him. 

“Would it help, if I was with you? I think you know what I mean.” When he wanted to be, Sav was very aware of how his face and eyes and physique could be used as assets to getting his way. He narrowed his eyes, lifted the edge of his upper lip. Flexed his arms and shoulders into slight tenseness. Apparently he wasn’t wrong; Steve adjusted himself and looked away.

No to the visual? Fine. It was common knowledge that dirty talk was the way into Steve’s pants, if not his heart. And a tight little arse, something that Sav was possessed of as well. “Two hands are better than one, right?” Steve’s head whipped back around, eyes wide. Sav held out his hand, palm up, fingers slightly spread to show off their slender contours. “And,” he tried not to gulp, “I could show you how to get off on your sweet spot, too.” 

Steve rasped, “How about if you just blow me?” Maybe it was a sarcastic question, but it was also permission. 

“I can do that.” Sav threw back the covers and crossed the room, standing over him, naked, covered in sticky cream. Steve’s pupils blew so wide open, the irises all but disappeared. 

“Oh, god... geez, Sav... shower!” Yes, probably, or they would be glued together; Sav could see the sense in that. He wasn’t capable of more yet, anyway. Gripping Steve’s arm tightly, aware of the muscles bunching under his hand, Sav hauled him up. For all that it was Steve with the immediate problem right now, he stood strangely passive while Sav pushed his jean jacket off his shoulders and pulled the Stones tee-shirt over his head. 

Yes, Sav looked. At every inch of... everything. Memorising it down to the last hair and pore. Steve’s shoulders were dusted with tiny red-gold freckles and Sav wanted to lick every one of them. What he lacked in sharply cut muscle definition, Steve made up for in realistic, salient masculinity, with shoulders and an arse to make angels cry. Something about the way his jeans skimmed his hips and that thick black leather belt he always wore spoke of his ‘fuck off’ attitude about everything. And, it pulled the eyes downward. Oh, yes. To say that Steve’s erection was obvious was a significant understatement. It looked painful. Sav could see the ridge of it, even the shape of the head, squashed in behind his fly and, true to Steve’s own words on the subject of his counterpart condition, his balls looked swollen. 

“Sav,” he breathed, taking a step back just as Sav ran a finger down the line of light hair that was Steve's happy trail and reached for his belt buckle. “Stop. We shouldn’t. I was just... In your case, I could do it, to save your life. Definitely could. But... there’s no reason at all for you to have to do this. It’s just a matter of, well, repetition, for me.”

“If you don’t want me,” Sav said slowly, painfully, “then get in there,” he cocked his head at the bathroom, “and do what you need to. Or I can leave. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want so much that you can taste it. Period. Not ever.” 

He wasn’t hard and needy right now. He’d done the necessary for himself; it would be weeks till he got anywhere near the danger point again. And with all the solo sex, Sav probably couldn’t get it up much less come off, for hours. This was not even about sex. It was about the things between them, or more to the point, not between them. Never before had it hit him so hard. Maybe just knowing that there was someone out there who could comprehend this shit, fucked-up genes or family curse or whatever, was a major drawing point. Not that he hadn’t always loved and admired the man his band had collectively chosen. 

“Oh,” Steve replied finally, somewhere between a chuckle and a menace, “I want you. I can taste it.” His hands landed on Sav’s waist and pushed him a few steps toward the nearest wall. Bare chest pushing against bare chest, Steve jostled Sav back against it with a thud that rattled the fake wood panelling, and kissed his mouth. At first, he led, his bandmate’s lips snarling want so strong, Steve needed to tell him with his own lips that he was free to give in. Sav willingly, oh so willingly tilted his head and showed his bandmate exactly what he knew about that, darting his tongue forward to trace the outlines, the seam, the plush inside padding of Steve’s mouth. 

“Oh hell, Sav...” Steve moaned. It was just one more link in the chain of weird that right now all he wanted was his erection against Sav’s in the cradle between their hips. Thanks to his own idiocy, Sav was stuck on soft. He was sorry about that, but it didn’t, couldn’t still him.

One of Steve’s hands slid through the strands of Sav’s long, messed-up hair, fingers closing tight, and the other was between them, fumbling open his belt and fly. “It’s out of control... I’m gonna come all over you, Sav...” Steve’s hips rutted forward and pulled back as he arched; he was making harsh little whining noises into Sav’s neck, licking his chest, biting his nipples. Steve finally got his jeans open and down and shoved his dick against Sav’s belly, leaking more slick into the slowly crusting mess from earlier. His sac surrounded Sav’s soft cock and brushed his balls, relaxed and loose now. Steve was anything but.

“Christ, you’re wet,” breathed Sav. “That is damn hot.” It disconcerted him too, to be so utterly turned on but not able to get hard. He wondered if his body had any more to give. He’d never tried to go again once it was properly milked out. There’d been no reason to. Through the lust-haze he realised he'd try anything to give Steve what he needed. Why the hell couldn't he have waited just an hour, even a few minutes longer?

For now, it didn’t matter. Even if he’d been there with a hard-on to thrust up against, it was going to be over in seconds, he could tell. He spread his feet apart; their legs slotted together and hips locked. As Steve came apart, Sav held him as best he could, running his hands over Steve’s shoulders, his finely-muscled back, god, that butt! He couldn’t let go of it, kneaded like a cat with his fingers splayed as Steve rocked against him, frantic. 

Arousal, Sav discovered all over again, was mostly in the mind. He was so incredibly turned on. He wanted so bad, almost a physical pain, bittersweet because he’d have to wait. But he could make it good for Steve. 

“Sav... love these. Like art...” Long, blunt hands clutched Sav’s sharp hipbones. Sweaty, damp hair scrubbing his skin, Steve’s forehead rested on Sav’s shoulder, right next to his neck. The bruising potency of his need put a scent so intoxicating up Sav’s nose that he had to bend his head down and lick the sweat and salt off the side of Steve’s neck, because his tongue wanted a piece of that, too, thanks.

When he came, Steve didn’t scream, didn’t howl. He took a huge breath right before and held it, and then Sav felt the first hot spurt on the underside of his chin. There was more and more, all over his chest and dripping down, one after the other. Five, six, seven, Sav started to lose count. He just held his mate, watching, devoted. There was the show of all that seed flying from the slit, and then there was the image of Steve - eyes rolled back then squeezed shut tight, veins popped on the sides of his neck, pouring out the manifestation of sex. It looked excruciating. When at last it seemed to be winding down, Steve pulled Sav’s mouth onto his again, tongue going deep, licking teeth. His body went nearly spastic with aftershocks. 

“God... Steve.” Sav had never seen the like of it. His chest and belly was covered in fresh spunk. Some stupid vestige of male competitiveness insisted that he had produced more than that. Maybe so, but if what Steve said before was true, it wasn’t over. 

“I know, right?” Always cocky, was Steve, even when he could barely stand, propped against the wall. “So, shower? Dunno what you thought, maybe you still want to go. There’ll be more.” 

“Go where? Next time, I want that in me.” 

Steve blinked. Sav grinned. It was a fact that Steve looked like he lost half his IQ points post-orgasm, but it wouldn’t last long. “Sav. Really. It’s nothing you need to do.” 

“Did you not hear me when I said, ‘I want’?” Sav used his bitchiest tone, then eased off on it. “Want to try something. Could be some fluid left in here...”

“What? In where?”

“My... You know. The root cause of my weirdness.”

It wasn’t lost on either of them that they had not moved yet. Nor that Steve’s cock was twitching awake as they spoke. “What if I hurt you?”

“Then I’ll tell you to stop.” 

“But what if you don’t realize it till later?”

“Steve... it’s been years of this. I’ll know. Okay?”

In return, Sav got a doubtful look thrown at him, but really, he did know. More than once, he’d had to tell overeager young newbies or an unfamiliar Dom to let up. No, he had no qualms about that. 

“Fine.” With no further argument, Steve peeled away and dealt with getting himself out of the tangle of his jeans and boots without falling over. They both padded to the small and out-of-date bathroom, glad for at least hot running water. Plenty of times, they’d had worse. 

Steve in the shower was just as eager although not quite as uncontrolled as before, when he’d been packing that first load. Eyes averted, then darting to look, they washed each other down, till fresh immaculate skin shown in the semi-dark behind the shower curtain. Though he hid it and went without all but a very slim percentage of the time, Steve had always craved a lot of hugging, a lot of kissing; his and Sav’s lips met under mist, each little curl of tongue around tongue drew more shuddering breaths. Wedging of the soap into ticklish places, sure. A quick comparison of respective junk. 

And, hands. Everywhere. Sav had imagined his fingers skimming each surface for so long, it seemed surreal. On Steve, the tight little muscles over the lower ribs were like steps on ladders, front and back, fanning out into flat pecs and lats. The hair in his armpits was dark-blond and fine; his pubes were much darker. Simultaneously, Steve discovered him as well. Toyed with his nipples and ran long fingers up and down his arms. Ropes of veins and arteries twisted from the backs of their hands, up forearms. Both men traced them all, then the cuts in shoulder muscles. As he stepped around Sav in the shower, Steve's familiar hands followed the lines of his back to the sweet arch at the base of his spine and down over tight curves. Sav put out both hands to steady himself, one curling around the shower rod and the other, flat to the wall. Steve moved past him again, in the other direction and trailed a palm over Sav’s hip. He reached lower, hmmm-ing appreciation over still-soft male parts. “For not having the exact issues I do... Sav, these are very nice,” he said, not an ounce of mockery in his water-muted voice. 

The admiration in his bandmate’s eyes and touches slayed Sav, sliced him to the core. 

And just... everything. Having never allowed this of themselves, Sav was surprised at how his chosen turned out to be a considerate and giving lover; he’d thought he’d have to train him, but if anything it was the other way. All of Steve's residual shyness and reticence melted away, and Sav was so ready when Steve turned him around to face the back wall. He’d left the lube in there, and while he did prep himself, the feel of Steve going in deep was better than any fingers or toy possible: warm and alive, hard as a fucking flagpole, its own beating heart inside him. Flawless. Sav himself was still less than half hard after an increasingly rough ride, but the stubborn rub on his prostate and Steve yammering on and on about how it was going to be a gusher, oh fuck, made him spasm and release squirts of his own offering as he was filled and filled and filled. 

And it was still not over. Steve had said ‘at least three’. Once Sav stopped leaking, they staggered out of the shower to continue, climbing with awkward grins at each other into the unmade bed. Sav tossed the stained bedspread to the floor and found the last spare blanket, which would have to soak up whatever water hadn’t dripped from them. With enough blankets to cover each of them, Steve was pitching a tent again. He rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Told you,” when Sav smirked. 

“I suppose you want me to blow you.” 

“Huh?” Steve sucked in a breath between his teeth, eyes glowing moonstone fire. He stretched and tried to feign only mild interest. “Well, you said... Have you ever...?”

“...no.” Never would Sav have imagined that this sort of confession to Steve, of all people, would make him feel inadequate. All his life, his older bandmate had presented himself as staunchly hetero, forever cracking jokes about being someone’s bitch-boy, grabbing ankles, dropping the soap, and all those things that implied the opposite. And now look at him. “Steve... You’d want a bloke’s mouth on your dick?”

“You’re not ‘a bloke’. What did we just do? And I kissed you didn’t I?”

Sav couldn’t help being a little indignant. “I’m not a bloke? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Well. You’re not just any bloke. You’re Sav. That’s what I meant.” 

When your partner was not exactly small, and you’re inexperienced, maybe the best time to learn how to give head isn’t when said partner is more or less in rut. Sav did what he could with his tongue and his mouth. He understood the theory, and what parts wanted attention. Little by little, his tongue bathed the purplish dome, lapping up the remnants of come and sweet new slick. Steve was panting in shallow little breaths, eyes trained on what Sav was doing to him. “Please... just suck me!” he moaned.

Sav tried, he really did, taking in a little more than half before he gagged. Pulling back, he flicked his tongue at the ridge. Steve spread his legs apart and twisted his hands in the sheets. “God, please, more!” The rigid dick prying Sav’s jaws wide seemed to hit the back of his throat the second it cleared his lips. Part of the problem was that Steve couldn’t hold still. He insisted that at any other time, he’d be a patient teacher. That didn’t stop him from jabbing his hips up and pushing Sav’s face into his groin. 

Rather than frustrate the hell out of them both and maybe choke to death on the impending blast, Sav put his workouts to real use and gently turned Steve on all fours. Relatively gently. So what if he had to pin him at first? Then just as gently - for real, about that - Sav licked his way down Steve’s back, detouring across the freckled shoulders. There were new constellations there. One day they’d have time to map them all. 

The broken sound pulled from Steve’s chest the first time Sav tongue-prodded his squeaky-clean tiny pucker shattered any last hesitancy. He traced the inward-pointing wrinkles, and plying the rim open one lick at a time until Steve begged him for more. Sav alternated between lapping at his hole and sucking his hypersensitive balls until, half an hour later, two fingers and half a long tongue wiggled into his murky depths, Steve screamed like a girl, sprayed the sheet, and passed out. Sav would have been pissed, only he’d already come helplessly a couple of seconds before, rubbing his dick into an abused pillow where it had bunched up between his legs. He crawled upwards, spooned Steve from behind, and fell asleep curled around him.


	4. Chapter 4

Both men were more than familiar with regretting it in the morning. There was a list a mile long to bemoan. All that over-sharing. Mutual indignity. Hope. And god... the sex. The sex. It wasn’t regret that greeted them with the light of day, though, just the impression of the mind stretched too far, to where it couldn’t snap back.

It was awkward. They had to force themselves go through the motions of what for them constituted everyday life. Brushing teeth, moving around each other in a confined space – even that set them up. That morning, it was another instance of neither of them being able to look the other in the eye, and there’d been no repeat, not as sore as various parts of them were. Steve had sat at the table for all of thirty seconds before he got too twitchy to stay there any longer. 

Ignoring Sav’s questioning look, Steve did go out briefly, squinting into the bright morning light, and came back feeling much less adrift. They were still them. Still Sav and Steve. Still rock musicians. Still mates. No doubt they’d still bitch at each other and bicker and smoke and drink too much and hustle when they had to. It was just that now, they were also... Well, whatever it was. Steve stopped at the convenience store by the main road for coffee and doughnuts. Without a word, he set them on the table, and then sat down again. 

"So...?" Sav finally asked five minutes later, his mouth full of chewed-up pastry. 

"Bus should be ready to go in a few hours."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

Steve looked over. "Must we? I mean... so that happened." He sighed. "And I want it to happen again. And more. I mean, what the fuck? I feel like... you're mine. And I'm yours, too. We're too young for the forever shit but..."

"It is what it is." Sav, renewed with sleep, carefully avoided the grandiose statements his ever-romantic heart wanted to push from his mouth. “We must have... something on us.” 

Steve snorted. Considering what he and Sav had just recently figured out about each other, he couldn’t imagine why Sav was questioning. ‘Something on us’ sounded creepy. “’On us?’” he repeated. “You make it sound like we’ve been graffiti’d or something.”

“A curse?” Sav suggested, grinding his teeth. 

“More like an affliction, I'd say," Steve pressed on. “Do you think we can be cured, then?”

He got another shrug. “Anyone can be cured, with enough faith.” Sav cut his eyes sideways, and Steve caught his meaning. Faith. Faithfulness. That might be true, but it never was without a price. 

“Last night, I was, er... awake...” Steve announced, flicking his hair back.

Sav grinned at him, a little disappointed. “Should’ve woken me, too.” 

“I suppose but... you looked so relaxed and contented, sound asleep.” Steve shook himself, grinning a little at the memory of Sav drooling into his pillow in deep sleep, hair in fronds of disarray. "I didn’t want to have to answer any awkward questions.” Steve’s eyes flicked to Sav’s crotch, then back up to his face. 

“MMM-hm.” 

“Very funny, Sav. So um....” They shared a significant look. “I’m thinking, you said it started up when you hit puberty...?” Steve’s eyes were wide, like scared, when he said it, because it was so fucking out there. “Me, too. It must be something to do with... impregnating... considering the amount of--” 

“Steve? Have you been out sowing your seed in the wilds of Middle America? Sometimes I wonder.” 

“No, stupid! I know better than that. Are you?”

“No!” 

“Alright then.” 

“So...?” Sav was getting impatient. He couldn’t begin to guess what Steve was trying to tell him, so there was no point in playing twenty questions. “Just spit it out.”

“Uh... It’s a family thing. There were these chicks who were like, a little older than me, some distant cousins, but, you know how it is with birds...” 

Sav made his ‘you chauvinist pig’ face. “What the hell do you mean?” 

Steve huffed. He turned his coffee cup around and around in his hands. “Boys, our bodies get ready and it just... happens. With women, they need time to, like, think about it. Process. No one teaches them how to, you know, touch themselves. It’s more complicated, obviously, and so many of them are taught to be ashamed...”

On the verge of laughing, Sav burst out, “Oh my god, who are you, a budding sex therapist?” He knew Steve sneakily read the articles and letters in certain magazines when he thought no one would catch him.

“NO. Shut up, Sav. It’s true!” 

“How do you know?”

“Dude. I’ve had to teach a few of them how to... you know.” 

“’You know’? How old are you, twelve?” 

“I swear, shut your cakehole or...” 

“Or what, you’ll lean over and blow me?” 

“Might be one way to shut you up.” Hearing what he’d just said, Steve turned three shades of pink, muttered under his breath, and soldiered on. “Well if you’d just let me speak!” Steve pursed his lips. Sav supposed it was Steve’s version of resting bitch face he was getting, but it still made his dick twitch. 

“Fine, sorry for trying to be helpful.”

“You’re welcome.” Typical Steve, blurting out an non-sequitur. "My gran had some stories. When he found out she'd told me, my Dad was pissed. 'No son of mine'... and all that. At the time it made no sense. I was maybe six, seven. Gran said I was going to be a... sex demon. A virgin-killer."

Sav barked a laugh at the idea of an old lady saying that. That was too up-front to be innuendo, something Steve excelled at if you didn’t mind no subtlety what-so-ever. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "That's fucking weird." 

"You're telling me. People shouldn't say shit like that to little kids, but I dunno, it was the only warning I got: she died not a year later. Another thing. She said I'd... knock them up. Up the duff. I've always assumed that's why..." He waved a hand at his lower half. 

Sav tried to figure out where he fit into such an equation. “What? I’m not exactly pure. And in case you haven’t noticed, male. Men can’t get pregnant.”

Steve slanted a look at him. “Dayton, Ohio.” 

“Ok, fine. That poor bloke looked like he swallowed a watermelon. Still not sure I believe it. Anyway, pretty sure I can’t.” 

“How do you know?”

“How do you know, huh?” Sav turned it around on him. “Maybe we should do it the other way. I want to but, well... We can shave you up real nice, slap on some lip gloss and mascara, find you a dress...”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare!” Steve was indignant.

Sav snorted with laughter. “Gotcha.” 

“Give me a minute and you’ll get--”

“Uh, as much as I like this version of foreplay, Steve, we don’t know how to fix this thing.”

“Right, right. Guess we were lucky... in a way.” The boys exchanged a look. Steve licked his lips unconsciously. “Being blokes. Think of what it must be like here, if everyone thinks you’re a slag.”

“Yeah, Steve, tell me what that’s like.”

“Shut up! No one cared about me.” Steve stopped when he heard what he’d said. There had been a hell of a lot of towns. A lot of hook-ups. He never meant it that way, but a lot of those semi-anonymous women blended one into the other, a blond-red-brown-black-haired, big-breasted amalgam. “I mean. We never were anywhere long enough, that it mattered.”

“Alright.” The tone of the word was, ‘you keep telling yourself that’. Sav didn’t mean it to be unkind. So he wasn’t misunderstood, he continued, “If I’d known... well, maybe not till we were older, because I was so...”

“Repressed?” supplied Steve.

Sav’s eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pressed together so tightly for a second, they could barely be seen. “Fuck you! I was going to say apprehensive. You didn’t make it easy, you know.” 

The look on Steve’s face said he was sorry. He didn’t say it out loud. Sav didn’t expect him to, and he cut his eyes to the side. "I've heard another word for what your gran said. Incubus. Do you think that's what you are? What we are? It wasn't talked about in my house. Ever." 

"I don't know," Steve tilted his head. Stretched his neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. The gesture seemed, in light of the conversation, a bit unnatural. "But here's one thing I thought of: if we're together, and stay together, maybe we'll cancel each other out." 

Sav's pulse jumped. "No wonder the attraction is so strong. I should have said something, anything. Or just touched you. Once would have been enough to..." Yes, it was physical in a purely human way. And for his part, Sav knew that mutual or not, he had felt something, a bond, for a long time. If Steve was right, it went further. Then he had to look up, because a firm male chest stared him in the face. Steve had moved so quietly, he hadn’t sensed it, and was now astride Sav’s lap. 

“Don’t. It’s not your fault, any more than it is mine.” Steve grasped Sav’s chin and wouldn’t let him look away. "I didn't know it could happen, between two blokes."

“I didn't know either, always thought it was one-sided and there was something wrong with me. Something more wrong. And... I never want to hear you say again that you don't matter, Steve. You matter to me.” 

“...I know.” Fingers combed through the curls at his nape, tugged a little so he had to look up further. Leaning closer, Steve parted his lips and brushed them once across Sav’s. His mate moaned softly against his mouth. “In a way, I’ll miss it. You know... if we’re cured, afterwards. I always ran, or left you to your own devices. Wish I’d have got to have you... while you were all in heat or whatever, at least once.”

“Better that you don’t.” Sav regretted it already, having missed out on that, but there was no going back.

“Why?”

“’Cuz just me might always seem lacking then.”

“Sav... no.” Steve’s erection was already prodding his mate low in the belly. “You feel that? It’s for you. Because of you. Now. Like a normal man, or as close as we get. I won’t be giving you a gallon today, either,” he smirked. 

“You flatter yourself. But okay, I’ll settle for a couple of tablespoons,” Sav grinned. His dick snugged up against Steve’s through their clothes. “I’ll take whatever you can give.” 

“Well then, considering I sexed you up good in the shower last time,” Steve took a deep breath and let it out, “have me.”


	5. Chapter 5

Sav watched him for a couple more breaths. Just watched. There was no artifice. Crushing his bandmate to his chest, Sav picked him up bodily and staggered to their trashed bed. “I pity whoever gets to clean this room,” he muttered. The bed had all manner of stains from their various outpouring the day before, but at least it had dried. He made a quick detour and lowered Steve onto his back, crawling on top of him. 

“Yeah, baby, fuck me amidst the come stains,” Steve mock-growled at him. 

“Shut up, Steve,” Sav moaned. Dexterous hands landed on his shoulder blades, sliding down his back. “Yes, Steve... yes!” His abdominal muscles tightened as hot little frissons sparked through him. Sav took what he wanted from Steve’s lips, holding nothing back. The heat of his need curled his lips into a snarl, the need to bite, innate. From below, Steve pushed him to suck roughly at his mouth, tongue curling in hot, and he gave it right back. They battled tongues, one mouth to the other and back. 

Clothes were the next conflict, both needy enough that only the requirement to have spare outfits for the road kept them from tearing through buttons and cloth. Like he needed water and air, Sav needed to be in control. He needed Steve naked first, so he could worship his beautiful body with his own eyes and mouth and hands and cock.

This was a side of Steve in bed that Sav hadn’t experienced before. The more he held the guitarist down, the wilder Steve’s responses. It was so mind-numbingly impossible to know what to do, because Sav wanted it all. They kissed for eons, giggling and snarling as wrestling match became tickle-fight became stripping contest. One by one, they undid each other’s shirt buttons. Their breath came in panting little gusts, hot-damp into pressed cotton and onto rippling skin. Sav loved the shifts of muscle in Steve’s shoulders and biceps pulling at him while they rolled around. He found the thick jut of dick against his irresistible, when the two rubbed together, throbbing into the non-existent space between them. Though it was never for long, he waited for those moments when Steve’s eyelids fluttered open, to expose his soul.

Breathing hard, Sav took the upper hand – and position. The air changed around them when Steve stopped struggling in lieu of clinging to him like an eel. Sav pushed his hair back out of his eyes; it promptly fell into them again. Coarse hairs tickled him; Steve’s legs folded around and hooked ankles just over his bum. One arm hugged his back, the other hand stroked the side of his face, gently, over his cheekbone and across his lips, down to the point of Sav’s chin. Luminous eyes gazed up at him, thick-lashed, sapphire-tinged deep-water gray in the low light. “Love me, Sav.” It was so raw, Sav froze, cradling him.

“I do... I love you.” 

“Then give me everything.” 

“Said I would.” Sav grunted at the sting at the base of his throat. Steve surged up to suck hard at his skin and bite a series of rapid pinches into the tender, thin tissue. The marks would be there for days, a reminder of this first time in a string of many first times. Sav let him finish, and then went zealous on him in the same way, taking aim at his left pectoral and sucking, gnawing till Steve cried out, “Stop... or I’ll come!” 

They hadn’t even touched each other yet, below the waist.

“You’re in lust,” Sav told his lover like he was sermonizing at him. His narrowed eyes darkened, lit with unholy fire, “with me. So hard and wet and ready you can’t even wait to get my dick in you.” 

“Damn right. ‘Cuz you’ve got it just as bad.” Steve’s expression was avid, open. He brought his hand up and slapped the side of Sav’s face, not hard, fingertips leaving the lightest sting. 

Half-gasp, half-grunt, Sav’s breath wooshed out in surprise. His hips ground down, half-frantic; Steve’s lower body thrust back up at him. “Oh yeah? You know what, you're just as bad, since you got a taste. Don't be afraid of it." He let his lips brush feather-light over the thin skin on the side of Steve's neck below his earlobe, resulting in a full-body shiver. "You’re really gonna come just from this?” 

“Probably could, you’re making me that horny.” Steve moved his legs enough to grab Sav’s butt. “You can make me do whatever you want, even take your dick up my arse ‘cause I can’t help myself. But I’ll wait.” Ironic punctuation, his slit slung a string of clear juice upon his belly. Sav’s firm little cheeks fit into Steve's hands perfectly; he clutched at them, never wanting to let go.

“Steve... I gotta prep you. You understand what I mean, right?” 

“Huh?” Oh. Right. “You’re gonna use the lube, you mean?”

“Yes, of course. Would hurt us both if I didn’t.” 

The flash of surprise and relief followed by a sound of something like pleased delight was to say Steve hadn’t expected to be taken care of like that. Whatever it was about him, Sav, that had led Steve to think he was inexperienced or slapdash about sex, he was putting an end to it. Right now. With every touch.

And, some time later, Sav thought feverishly, having survived opening Steve enough to take him for the first time, he would do it with every thrust and grind, every twist of his fingers or his hips. One-two-three-four fingers stretching his hole little by little had left Steve strung out and shuddering, and he really struggled. “Please, I can’t,” he whispered once. When Sav made to pull his hand back though, he hissed a warning and then breathed, “No! Do it. I swear I want it. Just--” 

“I know... it’ll be good, I promise.” Sav slicked himself till the excess ran down his sac. It needed to be right. He was aware how Steve kept his eyes fixed on his face, never wavering, not even when the thick, blunt head stretched him thin, or as more and more and still more filled him. 

Threading himself inside left Sav a shaking, coiled mess from holding back. It was an overwhelming responsibility, to be given this. The weight of Steve’s legs across his lower back and his arms around his chest held him close. Under him, his body was so fucking warm, solid bone and firm muscle, definitely his equal. “You ready to take it?” 

His mate’s mouth hung half-open, his chest rising and falling rapidly. And his voice was so rough, deep, vulnerable in a way Sav had never seen. “Never saw this in the cards for me, Sav. I’ll admit to being bad, lusting over you. Your body. Your... size. Big. I looked.” He wiggled his bum to prove a point. “But so’s what you do to me.” 

“Me too, Steve. What you do to me.” Cheesy though the gesture was, Sav laced their fingers together, holding their joined hands down on either side of Steve’s head. He was starting to know when Steve wanted kissing and he did now, light with lips and with subtle tongue as he pulsed his hips. Squeezed inside the tight vise of Steve’s hole, Sav’s dick screamed for friction. “Please... I need to...” he choked. His teeth found Steve’s earlobe and bit as hard as he dared. Trembling from the need to move, Sav kept still, but to push in a fraction of a millimeter at time. When he could go no farther, he stopped. Lay there, gluteal muscles clenched to keep himself from thrusting. His breath huffed out once, twice. 

Below him, Steve flexed his body. Sav could see what was going on in his eyes, the new sensations, the feeling of being stuffed full, the sting fading. “Can I...?” He moved, just a little, not even a thrust, just a shift in angle.

The spaced-out blink that meant his bandmate was really fucking aroused flashed, then the sky-coloured eyes opened wide and frantic. In a good way. “Fuck me! Do it, Sav. With everything you have... don't hold back.”

In his life, Sav had never had a chance to unleash his full strength, not during sex. Yes, he fucked. Like a beast. His loins and balls slapped at Steve as he drove them toward a reckless climax was a trip, because he knew he was a bit aggressive and that he was good in bed, but now he got to take what he wanted, how he wanted it. But to impress Steve and make him cling to him and moan his name as he came: some version of that was all he’d ever wanted.

And he was loud, as loud as he’d ever wanted to be. At first it was grunts, then moans. Steve held up like a trooper, rocking up into him and pushing his dick against Sav’s love line. When it became too much and the explosion just a fraction of a second away, just waiting there like a solar flare in his balls, Sav reared up and screamed. He let it all go inside Steve, who moaned, “OhmyfuckingodyesssSav, fill me!” 

“I love you!” Sav gritted out. He was past rhythm and down to spasms, his body still trying to thrust through it till he was more than empty. The second he reached between them, rubbed his thumb across the sticky head of Steve’s dick, warm jets spurted arcs into the air. 

“Yes... need to feel it!” Sav took Steve’s mouth in a heated kiss, folding him into his chest as his mate shuddered his way through orgasm. Hot liquid smeared up between them to scent-stain his skin. As soon as it was over, Sav fell onto Steve’s chest again, limp and still. Neither moved till the sun progressed across the sky, away from their entwined bodies.

Fin.


End file.
